Unraveled Threads
743 Words
Mia hadn’t planned on seeing Ethan again so soon. After last night’s conversation—if it could even be called that—she had hoped for at least a few days of space to let her emotions settle. But fate, as always, had other plans.
The morning sun streamed through the large glass windows of The Bluebell Bakehouse, casting golden light over the rustic wooden tables. The air was rich with the scent of cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, and the steady hum of conversation provided a comforting backdrop. Mia tried to lose herself in the routine—the kneading, the measuring, the precise movements of icing pastries—but she wasn’t as focused as usual. Her mind was stuck on Ethan.
And then, as if her thoughts had summoned him, the door chimed.
Her stomach tightened.
Ethan stepped inside, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever. Dark jeans, a fitted henley, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. His presence filled the space like a storm cloud rolling in—unpredictable, charged with something unspoken.
Mia’s grip on the piping bag faltered.
Lena, standing at the register, noticed immediately. “Oh, hell no,” she muttered under her breath.
Mia exhaled, straightened her spine, and forced a neutral expression. “I’ve got this.”
She turned, wiping her hands on her apron as Ethan approached the counter. He didn’t sit, didn’t order. He just stood there, looking at her like she was something fragile, something he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch.
“Morning,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
“Morning.” She kept her tone even. Professional.
“I didn’t see you at the bookstore last night,” he said.
Mia’s pulse jumped. Had he waited for her?
“I didn’t feel like talking.”
Ethan nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “I get it.”
Silence stretched between them.
She should have walked away, gone back to frosting cupcakes, but something in his expression stopped her. He looked... tired. There was a heaviness in his gaze, a shadow of something deeper than regret.
“How’s your dad?” she found herself asking.
His jaw tightened. “Not good.”
The two words carried a weight that pressed against her chest. For all the anger she still carried, she wasn’t heartless. She had known Ethan’s father well. He had always been kind to her, always treated her like part of the family.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it.
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “That’s actually why I came here. I wanted to ask if you’d come by to see him.”
Mia froze.
Ethan must have seen the hesitation on her face because he quickly added, “You don’t have to, of course. I just... I think it would mean a lot to him.”
Mia swallowed. Seeing Ethan was already hard enough. Facing his father—someone who had once been like a second father to her—felt like stepping into a past she had spent years trying to leave behind.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
Ethan nodded, something flickering in his eyes before he turned and walked away.
Mia exhaled sharply, pressing her hands against the counter.
Lena leaned against the espresso machine, arms crossed. “You’re not actually considering it, are you?”
Mia hesitated. “I don’t know.”
Lena sighed. “You know what I think?”
Mia looked at her expectantly.
“I think if you go, you’ll just be opening the door for him again.”
Mia knew Lena wasn’t wrong.
But she also knew that some doors never fully closed.
Later That Evening
Mia paced her small apartment, biting her lip as she stared at her phone. She had spent the entire day wrestling with the decision, but in the end, her heart made the choice for her.
She sent the text before she could talk herself out of it.
Mia: I’ll come by tomorrow.
Ethan’s reply came almost instantly.
Ethan: Thank you.
Mia set her phone down, inhaling deeply.
This was a mistake.
She already knew that.
But she also knew that she wouldn’t take it back.
Not yet.
Not when the past had a grip on her that she wasn’t quite ready to shake.
And not when Ethan Lawson still had the power to unravel her with a single look.
- Writer
